


You're so Golden

by casanova (stunojeel)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, weirdly poetic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunojeel/pseuds/casanova
Summary: "I know that you're scared because I'm so open,"Loving Kurusu Akira comes in many shapes in forms. Akechi Goro understands that better than anyone else.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 95





	You're so Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this because I was procrastinating on the next chapter of the first rule because I'm a lazy bastard with commitment issues >.< and I just wanted to write something a little angsty
> 
> Something I just gotta get out of the way:  
> In this story, it's imply that Shido pressured Akechi into sleep around in order to find out intel. If this sort of idea upsets you, then please do not keep reading! and as always, pay attention to the tags.

Loving Kurusu Akira comes in many shapes in forms.

It starts like waves on a storming night, stirring up the sand and crashing against the rocks. It's churning and destructive. It takes no prisoners. A sailor's worst nightmare is being stuck on a stormy sea for a reason. Desolated and isolated, there's nowhere to escape to. Getting swept out to sea is easy when you look into those charcoal-colored eyes.

Just like that, Akechi Goro was lost in the ocean. Stuck on a raft, swaying on the surfaces. An onslaught of waves illuminated by moonlight came in one after the other, crashing over him. He felt like he was drowning. The shoreless sea stretched on forever, land seemed too far out of reach. Mere days ago, he stood with both feet planted on solid ground. Now the swelling tides of charcoal eyes had drifted him from all he knew. It was a siren song; It was free like waves and free like words. Without the bondage of sentences, the melodies would swell and draw him in closer.

Akechi didn't need anyone. He had gone on for so long without wants or needs for anybody. He took care of himself, he didn't need anybody else. Yet, when he looked into those charcoal eyes, it changed his worldview.

The defiance, the fire. No one had ever blatantly disagreed with him during an interview before. His pupils seemed to dance with preservation, defending _his_ justice. Nobody dared to speak against the 'Detective Prince'.

He'd never been more intrigued by a kid his age.

Of course, it started simple enough. In order to catch the Phantom Thieves, Akechi needed to think like them. Kurusu could help him get into the mind of such an organization, he could help him stay ahead. He could help him to accomplish his mission.

It was no secret how often the thought of revenge kept Akechi's acidic blood from boiling in his veins. Being bossed around by the bastard who ruined your life wasn't much fun. Some of the many things asked of him were downright demoralizing but he did them. Disassociation helped him withstand the whiskey-ridden men who spilled secrets over dirty pillows. There were many times where the boy wanted nothing more than to wrap his gloved hands around Shido's neck and strangle him. Watching the life and color slowly drain from his skin would be satisfying in so many ways. They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Nobody ever said anything about estranged fathers who wrote you a hit-list.

Kurusu was Akechi's ticket to keep in Shido's good graces. It was no surprise to him when it became public knowledge that other people had figured out how to use the Metaverse. As much as it stung, Akechi knew he couldn't be _that_ special. Whoever granted him his power, be it god or demon, he knew he could not be the only one. Somebody out there had to know something.

Then came the curious cases of Kamoshida Suguru and Madarame Ichiryusai.

An ex-Olympic gold medalist and a world-renowned artist. At first glance, they had nothing in common other than the fact they were both well known. One was a high school gym teacher, the other was living in a shack and waiting for his next artistic inspiration. They were two parallel lines that were never meant to intersect.

Until the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Which was why Akechi needed Kurusu. Kurusu sympathized with the Thieves, supported them. This was an abnormal supernatural force the public had never seen before. Yet this high school delinquent who nobody except his two blonde friends wanted to hang around believed that they existed. Not only that, he believed in their justice. He seemed to understand them way before the general public did, fighting on the side of those taking down corrupt adults. The level of understanding intrigued Akechi because he also felt it himself. Kurusu seemed to be a victim as well, a victim of those the Phantom Thieves targeted. 

That was the first thing Akechi loved about Kurusu Akira; His sense of justice.

Justice was a very subjective thing. It fluctuated from person to person, everyone having their own innate sense of it. Yet his morals seemed to line up with Akechi's almost perfectly.

It wasn't until they were alone one night, in LeBlanc, that Akechi realized how far he had fallen. He may have made an unfunny joke or a particularly absurd statement. It didn't matter, because whatever it was, it made Kurusu laugh.

Kurusu was quiet. He tried not to stand out and he never made more noise than he needed to. But in the dim light of the vintage cafe, it was the happiest noise Akechi had ever heard. Kurusu's face was softly illuminated as he burst out in a string of giggles. The sound traveled straight down Akechi's throat almost suffocatingly. It was like a stake to the heart, agonizingly slow and painful. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; All tousled hair and pink cheeks. Kurusu held onto his side as he laughed, tears welling up in his eyes.

Akechi didn't feel the weight of the wave until he got home.

It was heavy and suffocating. The tang of saltwater tainted his tongue as his lungs were filled with it. It was a jarring awakening he did not need. Isolated. That's what Akechi had always been. That's the way he liked things. There is a helplessness in complete freedom, one he'd always adored. Out on his own, with nobody to answer to, he could do what he wanted. The idea of romantically pursuing someone or having a crush did not sit well with him. Let alone on his prime suspect.

Kurusu's siren song seemed to stick in Akechi's brain. It was a poison, slowly eating away at what independent cells he had left. Kurusu Akira was a drug worse than murder. Maybe Akechi was just looking for his next fix.

Hot water pelted his back, washing away the sin and lust he felt himself possessing.

Akechi was never one to be vain but he couldn't but stare at himself in the mirror. Steamed up from condensation, he wiped it away to reveal the sickly pale husk of a person underneath it. Sunken-in eyes, with glazed over pupils and dark bags. Emotionless. Brown, wet hair plastered across his forehead and stuck to the back of his neck, his cheeks hollow. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. He stared at the sink then glanced back up to meet the eyes of the killer in the mirror. They had nothing in them, those molten-caramel pupils. Akechi had seen dolls with more light behind their eyes than the boy standing in front of him. It wasn't him, it couldn't be him. It was a monster who happened to have the same long brown hair and high cheekbones. The same defined collarbones with the same purple marks blooming on them from a _client_ who didn't get the memo. God, he wanted to scrub away at his skin until the rogue hickies disappeared. It made him feel disgusting; To Shido, he was nothing more than a tool to get what he wanted. He reminded himself about how satisfying it will be to drain the evil man of his blood and it made it a little better.

He'd need makeup for tomorrow's T.V interview if he was to play the character as usual. Hide the tiredness, hide the overworked shell of a high schooler.

The monster in the mirror blinked as he did. He wondered if terrified and broken, ten-year-old Akechi would be scared of the beast in front of him. He went to bed that evening with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Akechi kept his distance for a while. He never let Kurusu get past arm's length. It didn't matter how many billiards games or cafe visits they had together, Akechi was trying to play mind games with him. He kept tabs on the people the raven-haired male hung around. Takamaki Ann and Sakamoto Ryuji. Both heavily involved with and abused by Kamoshida. Later, their little posse of rejects expanded to include Kitagawa Yusuke, Madarame's final pupil. 

He scoffed. It was obvious to anybody who had any sense. That, of course, ruled out any detectives currently assigned to the Phantom Thieves case.

Including Niijima Sae. She had a very bad case of tunnel vision; Get the job over with and done as quickly as possible. She didn't care if she had to use false evidence or fake testimony if it meant the papers in her stack were thinning. Niijima-San was a busy woman, any outsider could see that. It's why she got assigned the high school prodigy as her aid. But she was also a proud woman. She'd rather drown in work than accept help for anyone.

Her one-track mind got worse as time went on. The scope of the tunnel had reduced so much she couldn't see her own sister was a part of the organization she was so desperately hunting. Akechi had to swallow his bitter laughter.

Niijima kept Akechi on his toes. Between interviews about the Medjed take-down, Metaverse assassinations, exam season, and his work with the detective agency, he was lucky to get more than three hours of sleep. Old hobbies like bouldering, mainly used to keep him distracted, were dropped. His patience was worn as thin as his empathy. What he needed was a good coffee and to clear his mind for a couple of hours. 

His idle mind intoxicated with Kurusu poison brought him to LeBlanc. 

The boy himself was standing behind the counter, his hands at work on the coffee siphons. It was deliberate and concentrated every movement fluid. Something about the way his fingers dance whenever he made coffee enticed Akechi. He could not put the specifics into words but it was mesmerizing. Akechi couldn't help but wonder if he had the same grace when in the Metaverse.

Second thing Akechi loved about Kurusu: His coffee.

The flavor profile was rich and just bitter enough that as it glided down his throat, Akechi felt alive again. He stared, watching the other boy's eyes intensely look him over. Kurusu was calculating; It seemed he liked to read people. Maybe there was an art of psychology where you see the expressions of others drinking different blends to help to understand them.

Whatever it was, Akechi prayed Kurusu never stopped making coffee.

He told him this, to which the other boy replied with a bashful smile. Pink cheeks and flustered expression. It was enough to make Akechi's heart skip a beat, seeing the embarrassment seep into his face like blood out an open vein.

It was cute.

Akechi hated himself for admitting that, even if it was in his own head. He hated the word cute. He hated the taste of saltwater poison that sat in his mouth.

The siren looked up at the detective through curly dark hair and asked him a question. Akechi felt the vinegar in his blood as his face paled. It was a simple question, really, but it could have so many implications.

_"Would you want to come up to my room?"_

He could feel it, the rich haze of his heart thumping in his chest. It was a dirty request asked in such an innocent way. The way Kurusu's teeth sunk into his bottom lip made Akechi's brain churn like fiesty tides. Here he was; The leader of the group his investigation agency was trying so hard to catch. The heart of the Phantom Thieves appeared to be nothing more than an average teenage boy.

Average wasn't the right word. Kurusu Akira wasn't average, he was the furthest thing from it in Akechi's mind. He was an anomaly in the calculated collection of cogs that was the detective's brain. If Akechi's brain was software caught in an endless loop, Kurusu was bad code nobody had bothered to remove. An error in an air-tight program. If he wanted his revenge, he couldn't be having any errors.

Yet the typical line of _"Sorry, I have work to do"_ got stuck in Akechi's mouth. Salt rubbed his throat raw, he couldn't spit it out.

Instead, he agreed. Like the fool he was.

Sitting side by side with Kurusu made Akechi's stomach uneasy. Kurusu's room was nice enough; It was a cleared-out section of a rather messy attic place that had the same vibe as the cafe downstairs. Lived in and comfortable but old. It felt more like home and the clean studio apartment Shido had bought Akechi. This place felt real and was certainly not bought with tainted blood money. It felt comforting, sitting on an old couch in such a secluded spot.

Loving Kurusu Akira comes in many shapes in forms. The first time it took physical form was in LeBlanc's dismal attic.

Rogue fingertips brushed against Akechi's arm, just below where the leather gloves started. It was a soft, feather-like touch. Kurusu's thumb grazed the other boy's wrist, over the old scars. He winced, letting shivers race down his spine. Akechi didn't wear short sleeves unless necessary for a specific reason, to keep his demons hidden. He spoke no words. Instead, Kurusu leaned his head against the detective's shoulder. Just like that, the waves swarmed Akechi. They yanked him off his feet, pummelling him with liter upon liter of water. Desperate hands clawed and fought for the surface but the crushing pressure of saltwater kept him down.

He was drowning in it.

It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time. Not since the fragile hand of a dying woman had caressed his wet cheeks. It was as welcoming as a balcony without railing; It beckoned him to freefall.

Akechi sucked in a sharp breath and jumped.

Kissing Kurusu was not at all how he'd expected it to be. He tried to keep his train of thought on the rails but sometimes it's skewed. When he imagined it, those lonely nights listening to rain batter against the windows, it was romantic. Warm and comfortable, like a heavy blanket on a cold. This was messy; All teeth and no tongue with the awkward movement of lips. Akechi had been kissed before, many times. Mainly by disgusting men who wanted nothing more than to get off. It was usually rough and intruding and uncomfortable.

It had never been like this. It was never this soft. This... _Gentle_. Kurusu kissed him like he was scared he was going to shatter. The sensation was foreign but welcome.

Akechi stared at the monster in the mirror again that night. He seemed happier than usual. But the boy couldn't help but comment on the disgusting way the creature held himself. He stood like someone who needed to be braced up, he wasn't the god he normally was.

What a joke.

As hard as Akechi tried, he could not escape Kurusu's siren song. The longer he stayed away, the more he yearned to see him. The tether tying him to shore had snapped, leaving him stranded. He had to stay afloat, even with the knowledge of Kurusu's true identity weighing him down.

He knew if the Phantom Thieves continued with their work, Shido would order them exterminated. That's what he did with all meddling rats.

Under no circumstances could Akechi Goro fall in love with the dark-haired boy living in the coffee shop. After all, it was impossible. Akechi was busy, wrapped up in each tangling thread of his double life. He didn't have enough time in his schedule to open up for love. He didn't have enough time for Kurusu Akira.

So he made time.

Every dull moment, every open slot in the timetable, he contacted Kurusu. If it was something he'd normally do alone, he invited the other boy along. It was in the name of gathering intel, after all. Manipulation tactics played as tactfully as a game of darts. The only Shido had taught Akechi was that information was worth more than money. If you threaten to air out someone's dirty laundry, they get desperate. They'll play right into your hands and all you have to do is name a price. The more dirt he could dig up on Kurusu before their inevitable showdown, the better. 

There was the curious case of his criminal record. It didn't take much more than a Google search to reveal all the gory details about Kurusu's court case. He assaulted a woman and she filed to sue him. It was a pretty open and shut case which is why it made Akechi's blood boil. He'd only known the boy a few months but he didn't seem like the type to lose it and lash out. A fire burned in those charcoal eyes although it wasn't violent. Kurusu assaulting someone provoked... The thought didn't sit right in his stomach.

At school, his grades were near perfect. How did a kid like that get a criminal record?

It didn't make sense. Akechi knew the ins and outs of the system well enough to know that something here stunk of foul play. 

But Kurusu, beautiful, innocent Kurusu, took it in his stride. He bit his cheek, kept his head down, and kept on going. 

Loving Kurusu Akira was as easy as breathing in lungfuls of saltwater.

That's to say: It wasn't.

It's dreary nights alone in filthy, blood-money apartments, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It's screaming bloody curses from raw throats in pillows tainted with sadness. It's ripping out strands of hair, praying that when you finally pass out from exhaustion those thoughts wouldn't be there in the morning.

Night after night, Akechi sat in his dark room and begged whatever feelings he had to dissipate.

He couldn't be in love with Kurusu, it would wreck his plan. Years and years of sacrifice would be for nothing. The nights of enduring the dirty words of strangers or convincing himself that cognitions couldn't feel emotion would have no payoff.

Loving Kurusu Akira would ruin everything.

So Akechi couldn't. He wasn't prepared to risk everything he'd ever built up, everything he'd ever worked towards, for something as uncertain as love. One telltale kiss was as far as he allowed himself to indulge. Requests? He ignored. Invitations? He declined. Coming off as cold was better than giving the broken boy any more false hope.

Until the longing came in.

It was desperate, suffocated. It clung to him and burnt like Greek fire. The inferno in his chest was holding back the barrage of saltwater. His head and his heart were at war; Loki and Robin Hood at their finest. Losing himself in his work didn't work nearly as well as it used to. Kurusu Akira brain rot poisoned Akechi's mind. Thankfully, there were drones of mindless shadows to take his anger out on. Cognitive creeps were good scapegoats.

He tried to distract himself. Unfortunately, it was the things Akechi shouldn't see that always seemed to catch his eye.

Kurusu was good at returning what he was given. In fact, it seemed he had taken the opening to strike back. Over the course of weeks, Akechi saw him with at least five different girls. Every single one of them seemed to hang off every word he said like he was a prophet. The park, the diner, the Kichijoji jazz club. His jazz club, the one he introduced him to. Akechi showed him an underground haven of comfort and Kurusu repaid the favor by taking others there. On dates. Was it to spite him?

The very thought was a sizzling dagger into his shallow chest.

Akechi's mind had a twisted way of working. With enough convincing, he justified the unjustifiable. His feelings held no weight if Kurusu didn't feel the same. Kisses meant nothing with somebody who didn't care, Akechi understood that.

If Kurusu didn't want him, he had no reason to show any hesitation. Akechi would bring the Phantom Thieves to their knees.

Loving Kurusu Akira was not easy; It was full of venom and malice.

Setting them up was easy enough. The Phan website wasn't as secure as it appeared to be so rigging the votes was child's play. He lurked in the shadows of the Palace, watching cognitive Okumura desperately trying to fight off the Thieves. Akechi watched with calculating eyes, trying to observe their move sets. Sakamoto was clunky and weighted on his feet, his swings were slow and heavy. Niijima had previous martial arts experience, her grace on her feet showed as much. Kitagawa was quick, the cat wasn't good with defense but it was lucky. Tamaki wasn't one for physical attacks, she relied too much on her persona. Okumura's daughter seemed to be having a hard time keeping it together as Sakura was shouting from the sidelines. And Joker...

Joker was everything. He was agile yet stable. Defensive but aggressive when he needed to be. The way he spun the dagger around his fingers made Akechi's heart weak. A mischievous smirk was plastered on his face, regardless of the tide of battle. He was cocky because he was confident.

Akechi couldn't stand it. Kurusu knew he could fight, it was written all over his face. That snarky confidence that had no place on beautiful Kurusu Akira. Akechi wanted to wipe it off, whether it be with a fist or with his lips.

It wasn't until the Thieves left that the detective remembered he had a job to do. As the Palace crumbled around them, he executed Okumura. A single shot to the head was all it took.

The aftermath was better than Akechi could've ever hoped for.

Seemingly overnight, the public had turned against the Phantom Thieves. As far as the masses were concerned, these thieves were a phantom menace. They were terrorists jeopardizing the safety of their 'great country'. He was counting on people jumping off the sinking ship; The mindless masses hopping on a bandwagon. Streets and media outlets alike were flooded by people speaking against the Thieves. A warrant was put out for their arrest. When Akechi saw them around Shibuya, he could see it all in their dejected eyes. They had lost hope.

It was exactly what he wanted. Or so he thought...

Unexpected doubt curled out from the corners of his mind, twisting like roots in his brain. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? If that were true then why did this feel so wrong?

Akechi received a phone call that same evening from one Kurusu Akira demanding to see him. He pretended not to hear the absolute desperation in his voice. Words made of glass so fragile he wondered how Kurusu's voice didn't break. It was a simple invitation from a crushed soul.

A soul Akechi had crushed.

He swallowed his pride and headed over to LeBlanc.

Loving Kurusu Akira was honest and brutally so. He spoke his and mind and stood up for his ideals. Caught in a whirlpool, Akechi could do nothing but sit there as the raven voiced his opinion. It hurt. Once again, it brought Akechi to the brink of a free-fall into churning seas. This time he was hesitant to step off the ledge. He knew if he fell, he wouldn't be able to get back up. He'd have to lose it all to survive the landing into the freezing cold water.

But those smoldering charcoal eyes made the saltwater taste like the sweetest poison.

It was a blur from then on. Sturdy hands wrapped around his fragile glass waist as if he was about to shatter. Kurusu was like a mermaid: elusive, and gorgeous. A mythical creature among men. He was kinder than what he deserved. With every touch of his fingers, he set Akechi's skin alight. The detective was normally repulsed by other humans. Yet the company of Kurusu Akira didn't bother him. It was a flurry of movements, the tantalizing touch of skin on skin. He was soft, gentle. As annoying as it got, he asked Akechi a million times if he was okay with what they were doing.

They spent the night together.

Akechi thought it was nice. It was unlike anything else, just like Kurusu Akira.

There, with the moonlight illuminating their faces, it was the warmest embrace he'd felt. Soft hands cupped his cheeks like that fragile woman made of glass. That was years ago, it might've been the last time Akechi felt as safe as this. With his head nuzzled into the other boy's chest, Kurusu made him a promise. He was more cunning than he let on.

Loving Kurusu Akira was unpredictable. It was dull fingernails scratching down his back and soft kisses stolen in the serene silence. It was smirks shot across the battlefield. It was watching him stand against the world that abandoned him with his head held high with the intention to save them. He was selfless in all the ways Akechi was selfish. Two people society had turned their backs on... How could they end up so different?

Kurusu didn't see it that way. He saw the good in everyone, as naive as he was.

There were nights Akechi didn't think he was going to survive. Shido's voice haunted him in the few hours he'd get to sleep. A cold hand grasping at his throat, squeezing until his head popped. Akechi would wake in a cold sweat, the oxygen rattled from his lungs. He was drowning in the fear.

Yet those two arms snaking around his waist reminded him he'd be okay.

Loving Kurusu Akira was like being lost in the ocean. There were moments where Akechi's own self-preservation and ego became his greatest downfall. At times, it was rough, churning. Storms raged. The sea does not like to be restrained. But it was also calming, peaceful. Soft waves lapping against your ankles while standing on the shore. Having the sun beaming on your face while you float aimlessly on your back.

It wasn't easy letting down your walls. It wasn't easy to love. But Akechi would traverse the seven seas if it meant he'd get Kurusu Akira to love him like this forever.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, feel free to check out my other p5 fics! love yall


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